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Elections and Idolatry: Afterword

I really wanted to be done with the Elections and Idolatry series, but my wife Beth didn’t like the way it ended. She did not think I clearly communicated my stance on voting. She’s right, of course. Some of the feedback I have received indicates that at least a few people heard me say something that I don’t believe and didn’t intend to say. They heard me say something to the effect that all who vote in presidential elections are idolaters. They felt that I wrote this series in order to bash Christians who vote. They are wrong, but I am partly to blame.

My intention was not to fault those who do vote, but to give believers a reason to stop faulting those who don’t. I was weary of watching believers brand one another as lazy, unloving, and irresponsible for not seeking to do their best to influence the direction of the American government. I wanted to help people see that it is quite inaccurate to lump all non-voters into a single category and then dispatch them all with one fell swoop.

In retrospect I realize that I made this motive more clear in part three than in parts one and two. As a result, those who never got around to part three, or jumped to conclusions before reading it, did not have the benefit of reading it as one piece, like I originally intended. But things got too long and I needed to break it up some.

As a general principle, however, I strive to avoid as much as possible the ethical legalism of determining in advance what is always the timelessly right or wrong answer to a specific ethical question. The reason for this is that the meaning of an ethical question usually changes when it is asked in a different time and place. I say "as much as possible" because some questions can only be answered affirmatively or negatively, regardless of the time and place.

I suspect that this is one of the reasons why Jesus spent more time providing the disciples a general vision of what the kingdom is like than he did answering what it looks like to bring that vision to bear in the concrete life situations of first-century Palestine. He gave a general vision because he would later send the Holy Spirit who would guide his followers to implement his kingdom vision in ways that are appropriate to the diverse times and places in which they would later find themselves.

So if someone were to ask me whether it is timelessly wrong to vote, I would say no. And then I would quickly add that it is not timelessly right either. Each election should be evaluated on a case-by-case basis in light of the host of complex factors that are involved in each one. We should also be open to the possibility that it may be right for one person to vote in a specific election and not for another person.

In one part of the country, Christians may have a properly sober perspective on the limitations of government. They may also have avoided getting sucked into rampant nationalism with its misplaced hopes and fears. In such a context, it may well be appropriate for Christian leaders to quietly go about their business and to vote for a candidate that they believe would do less damage.

In another part of the country, Christians may be helplessly embroiled in rampant nationalism. They may have misplaced their hopes and fears in governing authorities, and they may be divided among themselves in ways that mirror the division in Washington. In such a context, God's Spirit may direct Christian leaders to take a different sort of stand—one that intentionally minimizes the importance of the powers and principalities.

In the second scenario, leaders may choose to respond in a variety of ways. They could choose not to vote, they could choose to intentionally vote against two parties who exercise a monopoly of power, or they could choose to write in their own nominee—someone who will certainly lose. The options are not as simple as vote or no vote.

This does not mean that voting is an entirely neutral practice. Christians should be open to the possibility that conditions could emerge—even in America—that would make participation in voting (among a variety of other practices) a form of idolatry. In Scripture, idolatry is not a purely religious matter. Governments and politicians are certainly caught up in it.

The book of Daniel gives some indication of this. In fact, I originally thought I might blog simply on the book of Daniel rather than give the topical, historical, biblical survey that I ended up giving. Here is another terribly simplified sketch that is more easily appreciated when some of the key verses are read in the original languages. If all of this seems alien to you, I recommend you read John Goldingay and Paul Lederach's wonderful commentaries on Daniel. I don't think I argue anything here that they don't help clarify. (Anyone who wants further clarity on the biblical portrait I painted in part three can consult “The Politics of Yahweh,” a book where I go into much greater detail to explain that particular way of interpreting the grand narrative of Scripture.)

In chapter 1, Daniel and friends refuse the "king's portion" and chose to eat water and "seed-based food" instead. There are many reasons to think that this is not about health or unclean food laws or idol feasts. I won't bore you with the details. The key issue appears to be identity. To eat the king's portion is a statement of loyalty. This passage anticipates 11:26 where Antiochus Epiphanes is betrayed by those who "eat of the king's portion." It is the same word in Hebrew. The irony is that Antiochus is betrayed by those whose diet indicates that they are among his loyal companions. There was no rule in Torah against eating meat and wine. Indeed Daniel has to later fast again from eating them in 10:2-3, which indicates that the chapter 1 diet is temporary. Daniel discerned that in that time and place to eat of the king's portion was to communicate that he was about something that he was not truly about. He was willing to put his neck on the line rather than simply blend in with the brain-washed masses and in so doing defile himself.

In chapter 3, all the king’s subjects are told to pay homage to his statue when the music plays. This statue is not necessarily a god. In light of the identification of Nebuchadnezzar with the gold head of the statue in chapter 2, and in light of the specific dimensions and gold composition of the statue in chapter 3, it is probably a replica of the king himself. The wider citizenry is not commanded to confess that the statue is a god. That was not the nature of Babylonian king veneration—even though religion and politics were intricately intertwined and could hardly be separated (v. 18). They are simply supposed to show loyalty and respect in a culturally appropriate way: to prostrate themselves and pay homage. These practices were not overtly religious, although they could be. King Nebuchadnezzar pays Daniel respect in the exact same way in the previous chapter (2:46). Yet the three Jews cannot go along because this act signals that the king is developing a disproportionately large estimation of his own importance. So they would rather face the furnace. Nebuchadnezzar's humiliation in chapter 4 reinforces the notion that his over-inflated sense of self importance is the key issue.

In chapter 6, Darius has the same hang-up. For only a short while he demands that people pray only to him. This is not about the king's divine status; it is about the king's desire to assert himself as the prime benefactor of the people. There is nothing in Torah that forbade Jews from taking a short sabbatical from praying. There is also nothing that would have prevented Daniel from praying silently while lying in bed at night. This edict was extremely easy to break without being seen. But Daniel could not go unnoticed. The king is saying things about himself that ought not be said. So Daniel flung open the shutters and began praying his way into the lion's den.

These short vignettes paint an interesting cumulative picture. None of the focal actions, in and of themselves, constituted idolatry. One can imagine times, places, and ways in which doing what the kings had asked could be carried out with a clean conscience. But the perfect storm was brewing in exile. A certain sort of religious-political momentum had built up that rendered acquiescence to the king's beneficence a quasi-idolatrous act. If it could be demonstrated that a similar storm was brewing in America, then a practice as simple as voting might trip Daniel's rather sensitive idolatry wire.

Lamentably, American nationalism is replete with idolatrous tendencies. As time marches on, more and more tiny tributaries begin feeding and strengthening a rather large idolatrous subterranean stream that few Christians recognize. Every once in a while it bubbles to the surface, as it did in this year's third presidential debate.

Christians who care for this country and would like to see its best values exert a positive influence in the world should be eager to identify and criticize such pretensions. The worse evil is not that the candidate who will likely do more damage gets elected, but that God chooses to judge this nation for its idolatry and that several of God's people are also swept up this judgment.

The prophet Ezekiel teaches that God's judgment is not poured only upon those who participate directly in idolatry. It is also poured on those who fail to "sigh and groan over all the abominations that are committed" (Ezekiel 9:4). The church in America has many abominations to lament. Foremost among them, perhaps, is our in-house division. Not only are we hopelessly divided along political party lines, but if the hostile feedback and ad hominem attacks I have received from this article are any indication, we are deeply divided as to what it means to be witnesses to the lordship of Jesus Christ.